Charismatic Fauna
by Ahmerst
Summary: England loses America amongst a crowded port and goes in search of the boy. There's really no plot, simply a feel good type fic for Sweethearts Valentine's Day week.


England scanned the bursting crowds of people as they milled about the port in a fruitless attempt to find his most favored colony. His moss colored eyes squinted with concentration as he stood upon the tips of his toes and continued to search. He ducked low and peered between the legs of sailors and merchant men alike. He checked the soles of his shoes, as if he had accidentally stepped upon the boy without knowing.

England could not find America.

He knew that the child must be near, the boy flew into a positively blind panic when he was separated from England for too long, but England could hear no bellows of childish fear and need. He took a deep breath, the familiarly scented salt air filling his lungs and providing a hint of comfort. Seagulls cried out ahead without reprieve, bickering over one rancid fish or another.

Ears beginning to ring from the high pitched gulls, England turned to face into the high noon sun. He shielded his eyes with a gloved hand and observed a gaggle of giggling young women, straying much further than they should be into areas that no genteel lady would ever be commended for stepping foot in.

They were gathered in a circle, each one bobbing and stepping to keep any prying eyes from the center of their group. England wondered if they had found an exotic animal of some sort to fawn over, and quickly strode over to ward them away in case the beast might be dangerous.

His heeled boots clicked loudly against the wet stones that paved his way, the womens' slender necks turning in an almost perfect unison to see who was approaching. England suppressed a twisted scowl as he recognized several of the faces watching him. To think that well mannered English gentlewomen would allow themselves to not only peruse the docks, but to be caught so easily as well. And without their husbands, at that. He made a mental note to tell their men to mind them better.

Recognition slipped across a handful of the womens' faces as well, and those who only displayed a certain curiosity soon threw somewhat more cautious glances at him as their friends informed them to the nature of the gentleman. They dispersed in a singular, almost liquid movement before England could catch any single one of them.

Laughter that sounded like the sweet melodies of songbird erupted as they lifted their skirts and quickly scampered towards the safety of the town, eyes glittering as they occasionally glanced back at what they had been so infatuated with. Despite the bulk of their silken and laced skirts, England was momentarily taken aback at how swiftly they fled, and even more surprised when two of the young women seemed to be blowing kisses over their shoulders and flashing elaborate fans in their escape.

Shaking his head in an attempt to relieve himself of their flirtatious actions, England turned back to where their tightly knit circle had once been woven. Both relief and embarrassment twisted about his spine when he saw the center of their attentions. Tottering ever so slightly, a blithe grin painted on his face for the world to see, was America.

_Always_ the charmer, England mused to himself.

"England!" America threw himself at England's familiar form, his eyes ablaze with delight. "I got lost."

England rested his hand upon America's golden locks, stroking them thoughtfully. "When one is lost, they usually do not take up company with women."

"I-I know, but one of them said she and her friends would help me find you."

"And did she?"

America clutched England's britches tighter, "We got distracted for a bit."

Any inclination to scold the child for lolly gagging vanished. America's pitch had moved higher with remorse as he spoke, and England knew the child had not gotten himself lost, and then retained, on purpose. His fingers continued to travel through the boys hair, winding and curling at the unkempt edges of blonde. He tweaked the singular cowlick teasingly, having long since given up on flattening the wayward hair.

America's grip loosened as he yawned against England's thigh, the hotness of his breath momentarily uncomfortable as it forced itself against England's skin through the cloth. The child took a step back, the smile on his face fainter, but no less genuine.

"I'm tired, may we please go home?" America asked with doe-like eyes.

"I still have a good bit of business to tend to─" England found himself sinking into America's gaze, "but I suppose we could return home now. For a bit."

England always had the most difficult of times saying no to any of America's wishes, and when the boy used such a gentlemanly vocabulary in his requests, it was nigh impossible to turn the child down. With a slightly flustered smile, England rubbed the back of his neck and nodded at America to reaffirm his words.

"Thank you, England!" America cheeped in return. He extended his arms upwards toward England, silently asking to be carried the distance home.

America was beginning to reach an age and size where he was becoming too big to be easily carried. England's mind often stuttered when faced in situations where America wished to be hauled around, as in this instance. He wanted to hold onto America, hold onto the here and now, keeping at bay the idea that one day America _would be_ too big to heft around like a beholden pet. And yet, America did need to learn how to walk on his own; to an extent, at least.

America's smile dimmed as England argued internally over whether or not to pick him up. His lips twitched in anticipation of what he felt was oncoming rejection, his dazzling blue eyes fading with sadness. The threads of England's inner argument tangled themselves long enough for him to notice his expression.

"Now now, child, don't cry." He instantly lifted the boy into his arms, holding the colony against his chest. "Off we go!"

England strode briskly from the port and down the back alleys to avoid any unwanted conversation. He held America closer as they passed an avenue with men and women lazing about. There were those with eyes that could not see, ears that would not hear, limbs that no longer served any function to their owners beyond swollen and pained dead weight. Some had become stricken with vices they could no longer support and had acquired yet more in an attempt to return to their first.

America's delicate arms wove their way around England's neck as the sick and penniless took notice of them. His nervous breath flicked over England's skin, causing the other to tense. Not wanting to chase the beggars and lames off with shouts that would frighten America further, England attempting to strike up a conversation with a child in the hopes of relaxing him.

"Those women you were with, did you take a fancy to any of them?"

"No. Not really, but I think they fancied me." America mumbled into England's neck.

"Oh? Do go on, my boy."

"Well, they kept saying I was all kinds of cute, and that they wanted me to come home with them and play cards─" England bit his lip in irritation at this, the last thing he wanted America to do was idle away his hours playing frivolous games that could develop into beastly addictions.

"I see, and what else did you speak about?" England ducked into another side street, one empty of anything beyond a stray cat or two.

"Uh, that was it. I think." A squeak at the end of his words told England he was not being entirely truthful.

"I'm _sure_ you did more than that." England's response was not a question, but rather a statement.

"I, well, they─" America's tongue stumbled over his words, "I asked them, because ladies seem to be so good at it, how to impress someone I love." His cheek grew warm against England's skin.

"And what did they tell you?"

"They said to speak gently, and mind my manners."

A chuckle growled within England's chest, having been humored by the common sense the women had dispensed.

"And they they said that I should look nice as well, so they helped me with that. I don't think it worked."

"What makes you think that?" England set the boy down as they reached a grassy clearing, the cottage at which they were presently boarding within sight. As much as he would have continued towards the house, he was parched and momentarily without breath, his body calling for a slight rest.

America wrung his hands as his pale pink lips pursed nervously. His gaze met England's own momentarily before darting away again. "I just do. Think that, I mean."

England crouched and gave the boy a gentle hug, sighing happily as he felt the boy melt into his arms. "You can tell me, I won't be cross with you."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

America relented, "The women told me that men like really _big_ eyes, but not the colored part."

"The colored part is the iris."

"Yeah, that part. But they said really big puppies, the black part, are good."

"Pupils, you mean pupils." England gently rubbed America's back, his fingers enjoying the tweed texture of the child's waistcoat.

"Oh, yes. Pupils. They said they would give me _gigantic_ pupils, pupils that everyone would love."

"And how did they attempt to go about that?"

"They had me hold still and put something in my eyes. It didn't hurt though, it felt like water, kind of. I asked if I looked any different and one of them brought out a looking glass the size of your palm, it was so tiny I bet if you gave it to a dog they would try to eat it─"

"What exactly did they put in your eyes?" England cut in, herding America away from his digression regarding miniature looking glasses.

"I think it's called bella fauna."

"Bella_donna_?"

"I don't know, something like that."

England released America from his hug, only to hold the boy at arm's length. America blinked curiously, his pupils huge and velvety, inviting to the point where England almost wanted to touch them. They were like smoldering coals, seemingly too large for America's eyes to hold. It was almost unsettling.

"You look dashing, very dashing indeed," England said truthfully, surprised he hadn't noticed it before.

"Do you love me more now?" America asked.

"W-what? I couldn't love you any more than I already do, America."

"Why not?"

"Because I am at my maximum capacity of loving. I love you more than birds love the air, and more than fishes love the sea."

"You love me _more_ than the sea?" America was dubious.

"Of course I do." England was stunned the boy even had to ask. "But don't let anybody put anything in your eyes anymore, okay?"

"Only if you promise to always love me more than the sea." America gave a shy smile.

England once again took America up in his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to curve of the boy's blushing cheek. "Without doubt, I will always love you more than the sea, and I needn't promise to be sure of that."


End file.
